Null and Void
by galabad
Summary: Haruko searches for a new weapon to help her defeat Atomsk.


The summer sun filtered through the haze that constantly blanketed the sleepy city of Mabase. Even the afternoon rush hour, which would bring chaos to most towns this size, was possessed of a certain subdued quality as cars puttered quietly across the river bisecting the city. People on both sides of the bridge meandered through their daily routine by rote - taking the same old way home, greeting loved ones with the same old salutations, sitting down at the same old table to eat the same old food - as if blissfully unaware of their own humdrum banality. Mabase was the kind of place where absolutely nothing of note ever happened.

That is, unless you knew where to look.

Along the bank of the river toward the less affluent part of town, a bright yellow Vespa motorcycle stood reflecting the slowly waning sunlight. Sitting cross-legged upon its seat, a thin young woman with curiously pink short-cropped hair wore a bright red sleeveless jacket over a yellow long sleeved shirt and long black pants that were tucked neatly into knee-high white boots. A helmet and goggles hung on the Vespa's handlebars along with a white scarf and yellow riding gloves, removed in concession to the midsummer heat. Unlike most of Mabase's inhabitants, Haruko Haruhara had plans, and big ones. For now, though, she was content to strum the muted strings of her prized left-handed blue Rickenbacker 4001 bass guitar despite having no place to plug it in.

"All you ever do is pick at the strings," mumbled her less than content companion. Naota Nandaba had a more normal combination of blue eyes and scraggly brown hair that peeked from under his red baseball cap. A light blue t-shirt, at least a size too big for his not-quite-teenage frame, covered up the top half of his brown shorts. He sat on the sun dried grass with his chin cradled in his hands and stared at the Vespa's owner. "Do you really even know how to play that thing?"

Haruko froze in mid strum. Her otherworldly yellow eyes opened and her pig-in-slop grin faded. "Play?" she asked in an insulted tone. "The guitar is not a toy, Takkun. One does not 'play' the guitar. One works the guitar. One caresses, cajoles and wheedles the guitar until it deems one worthy to partake of its melody." She pursed her lips and cradled the instrument in her arms. "One makes love to the guitar," she breathed.

"Whatever." Naota rolled his eyes. "Can we go home now? It's hot out here."

Haruko slowly lowered her instrument. "Takkun," she purred, "it's time."

"Time for what?" the boy inquired with annoyance.

"You know, Takkun. It's time to pull that lever again and hope for the jackpot."

Naota's eyes widened in terror, the girl's meaning suddenly becoming clear. "H-here? N-n-now?" he stammered.

"Tell ya what. Just to be sporting I'll give you a thirty second head start."

"You can't be…" the words froze in Naota's mouth when he looked up at Haruko to find her already slipping on her riding gloves.

"Twenty-nine," was her only reply.

"But, I…dammit!" Naota jumped to his feet and took off as fast as they would carry him along the river bank.

Haruko continued counting to herself as she donned her helmet and slung the bass across her back. "Twenty, nineteen…ah, close enough." She slammed her foot down on the Vespa's starter and gunned the throttle, carving a long divot in the dirt as the motorcycle streaked off on its rear tire.

Naota gasped between ragged breaths at the approach of the Vespa's distinctive whine. He darted and weaved between the bushes separating the river from the highway, hoping to throw the insane woman off his trail. His hopes were dashed when he chanced a glance over his shoulder and saw shrubs being flung high into the air as the yellow bike tore a path of defoliation through them. He could make out Haruko standing up in her seat, swinging her guitar in overhead circles like a barbaric horseman charging in for the kill.

Naota willed himself to run even faster. If he could just make another hundred feet or so he could reach the highway. At this time of day it would be packed with commuters, and not even Haruko would be crazy enough to assault him in front so many witnesses. Just as he thought he might make it, he heard a high-pitched shout of "Here I COME AND GET IT!" and suddenly the world exploded in a red flash.

Haruko brought the Vespa to a halt, switched off the engine and dismounted beside Naota's prone form. She grasped the guitar's neck with both hands and lifted it to her shoulder as if ready to swing it. "Come to mama!" she happily exclaimed, staring expectantly at the hard lump quickly forming where she had struck the boy's head with her bass. After several uneventful seconds the smile faded from her face. "All of your running around must have made me screw up, Takkun. Don't move, I'm going to try again." Naota groaned as the girl brought the Rickenbacker down solidly on the back of his skull. Still nothing. A look of concern spread across Haruko's face and she prodded the boy with her boot. "Takkun, I think you're broken."

"No kidding," he muttered.

Haruko lowered her weapon and stared at Naota. Slowly she raised one eyebrow in consternation as she concentrated on him. She was able to spot Conduits as easily as if they were candles in a dark room. Naota's N.O. potential was far greater than most Conduits she'd known and he usually shone especially bright to her senses. Now, however, his light was significantly dimmed, almost extinguished. It was like watching a solar eclipse. No sooner had these thoughts crossed her mind than the obscuring shadow began to lift.

Haruko blinked. She had never encountered anything like this before, and she didn't like it one bit. She craned her head with slack-jawed curiosity and looked all around to try and find any kind of clue about what might have just happened, but all she could see was the column of cars flowing past on the nearby road.

Alex sighed. After a month he was finally starting to get used to city life, but one thing he still couldn't stand was being stuck in traffic.

Alexander Hartmann, late of a tiny suburb on the east coast of the United States, sank back into the tan cloth driver's seat and ran a hand through his coal black, closely cropped yet somehow still unkempt hair. It came back moist with perspiration and made a wet smack as he slapped it back on the uncomfortably warm steering wheel. The air blowing at full blast from the dashboard vents was getting noticeably warmer, and Alex groaned as he watched the needle on the engine temperature gauge creep slowly upward.

_Why was it I decided to move to Japan?_ he asked himself. _Oh yeah, Tasuku talked me into it. I'll have to properly thank him someday._ His thoughts drifted to Tasuku Nandaba, a baseball prodigy who moved from Japan to the U.S. to play for the major leagues. Considering how much Alex despised the game, it was surprising that the two ever met at all. When Tasuku first arrived in the states, he decided to attend university for a time while getting set up in the minors to prepare for the big time. He was invited to speak in front of Alex's Japanese class, and when the two met afterwards they became fast friends.

Tasuku told stories of his hometown of Mabase, about his little brother who still lived there and the weird pyromaniac who convinced herself she was his girlfriend. He also talked about the increasingly high number of technology-based businesses moving into the area that were always on the look out for skilled experts, especially if they were multilingual. Alex, who was majoring in computer sciences, found that last particularly interesting.

Just after graduation Alex made his way to Mabase on Tasuku's recommendation. Despite being a bit overwhelmed by his new life in a foreign city, he managed to use his meager funds to provide himself with a modest apartment and transportation and set off on his job search. To his surprise, he was hired almost immediately by one of the first companies he approached. Some things about his new employer did seem a bit odd to him, not least of all the building in which they kept their headquarters, but he supposed it was just culture shock. At any rate, the pay was excellent and he wasn't about to screw up a good thing by asking too many questions.

The blaring of a car horn startled Alex from his musings. He pressed the accelerator and advanced all of about twenty feet before the traffic stopped again. He was reaching for the radio when something on the side of the road caught his attention. He adjusted his wire framed glasses and narrowed his smoky gray eyes at the sight. Maybe a hundred feet from the edge of the highway, and partially obscured by a row of hedges, was what appeared to be a motor scooter and a figure in full riding gear that he assumed to be its owner. The rider was hacking at something on the ground with what looked like...a guitar? Shortly the rider stopped swinging and appeared to kick at something, then looked up and turned to face the road.

Before he could reflect too much on what he was seeing, the car behind him blasted its horn again. This time it appeared the traffic was truly on the move, so he flipped on the radio. He winced as some bubblegum J-pop tune blared from the speakers. The music was one more thing about this country that he still hadn't gotten used to. He switched to the CD player and smiled at the opening chimes of David Lee Roth's _California Girls_.

In just a few minutes Alex pulled his rusty should-be-white 1985 Celica into the parking lot of an apartment building that a realtor might list as a "handyman's special". For sure, there hadn't been a handyman near this place for quite some time. He slammed the creaky car door and yanked on the handle, just to make sure it was locked. He caught himself doing it, yet again, and grinned. _My OCD,_ he thought.

He strolled up to the ground floor door marked "102" in flaking yellow paint and lifted the flap on the nearby mailbox. Nothing. Just as well. He let himself inside and dropped his briefcase on the living/dining/bedroom table before heading to the refrigerator. He closed his eyes in relief as the cold air washed over his sweat-beaded brow, then frowned as he surveyed its contents. Half a quart of milk that he wouldn't even feed a stray cat, an unopened squeeze bottle of ketchup, a hunk of something that may have once been cheese (or possibly meat) and some kind of energy drink that claimed cherry flavor but was far more reminiscent of dirty sweat socks. Well, at least the tap water was clean.

He kicked his shoes off and undid the top button of his blue polo shirt. Luckily this new job had a fairly casual dress code; he'd hate to have to dress to the nines in this weather. He popped the latches on his briefcase and retrieved the official New Employee Orientation DVD he was given that morning. "You're my ticket out of this dive," he crooned to the disc as it slid into the player. As he settled back into a torn and battered leather armchair to watch, a young man impeccably dressed in a business suit appeared on his tiny TV screen. Alex couldn't put his finger on it, but something about the man just didn't sit right. His eyes were just a tad too round, Alex thought. His smile was just a smidgen too wide, his pompadour just a modicum too lacquered. Overall the man gave the impression of being a bit, well, _plastic_. The man's unsettling grin somehow spread even wider as he seemed to peer directly into Alex's eyes.

"Greetings, friend," the man joyously proclaimed, "and welcome to the Medical Mechanica family!"


End file.
